


hold you through these tremors.

by liibrorum



Series: perks of obsession. ( jake & dwight. ) [1]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, mentions of kingfield, post-escape au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 13:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19174252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liibrorum/pseuds/liibrorum
Summary: jake fails to save the one person worth living for.





	hold you through these tremors.

**Author's Note:**

> please remember that i like money just about as much as you all like my work. any and all ko-fi's go to paying my rent as well as my multiple medical bills that i accumulate throughout the year: http://www.ko-fi.com/motherconjurer
> 
> this one is for my friend cap, whom i failed to save a month or so ago during a round of dbd and she said 'now imagine this as parkfield'. i hope you all enjoy.

He doesn’t know why the Endgame is a thing that’s happened, but he knows that it must mean they’re  _ winning.  _ They’re winning, and the Entity is scared, and that’s why it had to up its game. The game is becoming stacked against them, and if he knows anything from examining Alex’s toolbox, from the scrawling on the roof of her toolbox… they’re almost done. He closes his eyes with his back against the cold, bloody brick of Haddonfield, a shuddering breath leaving dry lips. They’re almost done— he’s counted each generator as it’s been popped. Meg has done a wonderful job running the Huntress around, doding her axes with only a precision that a Thomas could understand. Claudette found medkit after medkit, tending to each of their wounds with a doctor’s care. 

And Dwight…?

Dwight had been hooked once already, body-blocking for a wounded Meg long enough for her to get some care from Claudette, and after he’d been reprimanded for it once by Jake— _ you don’t need to take that kind of risk for our runner— _ it had happened again of nobody’s fault but the Killer’s, with the Huntress’s horrid axe slamming itself into Dwight’s shoulder.

As the energy of Kindred hummed throughout the trial, the silhouettes of everyone being prominent to everyone (including the Killer’s, a bright magenta contrasting against that of the survivors’ yellow), Jake looks up as he watches the tendrils come down from above. They’re only stopped by Dwight’s hands pushing them away from him, struggling with all of his might until he’s unable to do so no longer— until the muscle fatigue of running around the entire neighborhood got to him.

But Jake was smart. Jake knew of Dwight’s adrenaline— he’d learned it from Meg, being able to hone in on the life-or-death situation that was about to befall him. Something about it was different than that of anyone else who’d learned the ability: Meg’s adrenaline was heightened by her desire to make it out the door whereas Dwight’s adrenaline was heightened by his desire to make sure everyone made it out, even at the cost of himself. Knowing that Dwight would be better off  _ after  _ the final generator was finished than before, his hands calm and his eyes focused. (He pretends not to hear Dwight’s scream, pretends not to hear how he’s struggling against the tendrils. Dwight is strong, he reminds himself, and he is able to do things that other men could not.)

The lights of the generator flicker on, and the sound of the alarms ringing throughout the trial are like an angel’s chorus. He grins as he kicks dirt up underneath his heels, clutching Alex’s toolbox in his hands like it is the only thing worth living for. He knows better, though, and he knows of the one thing that’s actually worth living for:  _ Dwight Fairfield.  _ He watches as Meg is chased by the hunter in the distance, pleased that she’s serving as a welcome distraction while Claudette opens the exit gate. He knows that when that gate is opened, the Endgame will begin, and they’ll only have a certain amount of time to make it out of there before the Entity itself takes the game into its own hands. 

He’s running, facing the clock, watching the invisible bar of Dwight’s stamina tick down in his head. The hook is there, and he is so close— surely he’ll be able to make it. He fast-vaults over windows, ignores the pallets Meg has not yet dropped, leaps over anything that could stop him from getting to Dwight.  _ Dwight, Dwight, Dwight—  _

His hands reach up to find the struggling man, hands reaching underneath his armpits to pull him up and off, but before he can— a sharp, larger spike pierces his chest, splattering the leader’s sanguine fluid all over Jake’s face and clothes. He hears Dwight’s scream and his own hatred courses through his veins. _Your fault,_ ** _your fault— YOUR FAULT!_**  Slamming his hands down on the base of the hook, he lets out a horrible scream, shaking and throwing the iron against his toolbox. “You son of a _BITCH!_ ” he cries out, looking up at Dwight’s wrapped form being carried up into the sky. “I _HAD_ him! He was _SAFE!_  You bring him BACK to me— you bring him… _bring him… I love him._ ’

“Park, snap out of it, we have to go—” It’s Meg’s voice breaking him from his trance, but it’s Dwight’s voice that breaks him back into reality.  _ Jake,  _ it calls out to him in an unfamiliar tone.  _ Jake, wake up. _

Eyes blink open once— twice— three times, and he is met with Dwight’s face, his own brow stained with sweat. A downy bed, the mattress firm, with silken sheets wrapping them up. Dwight appears before him, hair standing on end and without his glasses, clad in one of his leftover PizzaWhat shirts and some lounge pants. Jake sits up, looking himself over, holding his hand over his bare chest. A sinewy scar, about a foot long and vertical across the upper-left portion of his chest is prominent, and he knows that Dwight has one to match. All of the survivors did, before their escape. There’s a satisfied, exhausted sigh that leaves Jake’s mouth as he lays flat against his pillow, gripping and holding onto whatever part of Dwight he can find first (it’s his hand).

“Babe, are you okay?” Dwight asks nervously, leaning over to the nightstand to put on his glasses and get a better look at his boyfriend. “You woke me up with your screaming. Bad dream?”

“Horrible one.” Jake sighs, bringing Dwight’s fingers to his lips. He kisses each one gently—he’s always been better at  _ doing  _ instead of  _ saying,  _ so he speaks less and does more. His brow furrows as Dwight’s fingers break from his own, reaching around mild stubble to cup his cheek. As Dwight turns his face to look at him, Jake’s eyes scan the other’s expression.  _ Disbelief. Worry. Exhaustion. _

“That night I couldn’t save you,” Jake whispers, closing his eyes. “That’s what it was.”

“ _ Babe _ ,” Dwight sighs, exasperated. He rolls over, letting himself be held by the survivalist, and their fingers interlock underneath the bedcovers. Dwight remembers the night well: after being hooked and his spirit sacrificed, he’d wandered back to the bonfire to see David and Jake in the middle of a fistfight, lips busted and knuckles bruised but both of them relieved to see his face. “I told you that it was alright. That it happens.”

“I chose to finish the generator instead of saving you.  _ I’m  _ the reason it got you.” 

“You did what you needed to get everyone out. You’re the reason the rest of you got out alive. Which is what I would have wanted, if I were in your shoes.” Dwight rests his head against the other’s bare shoulder, blinking low and slow until he is able to hear Jake’s heartbeat. Strong and rhythmic, just like an oak tree— Jake Park was the forest, and the forest was Jake Park. It was one of the many things that Dwight loved about him… including his self-righteous martyrdom. An arm loosely wraps around Jake’s waist, and he smiles, kissing his scar. “And besides. I’m right here, aren’t I?”

“I love you,” Jake whispers, his nose lost into Dwight’s fluffy hair as they settle in for the night in a second attempt at rest. “I’m not going to let anything hurt you.”

“I love  _ you, _ ” Dwight replies, running his tongue over his lips. “And I’ll protect you too.” 

 

_ (Even from yourself,  _ he thinks as he tightens his arms around Jake’s waist.)


End file.
